Page 31 of White Wedding
Her mother turned to leave. “Don’t stay up too late, all right?”
“All right.” After her mother left, Victoria grabbed another handful of M&M’s. As she went to attach the gingerbread roof, the whole house collapsed. Rather than attempt to fix it again, she headed into the kitchen to top up her wine.
First thing tomorrow, she was calling Rafael.
Chapter 12
Seventeen Days Until the Wedding
“Two point eight million.”
“Are you serious?” Rafael glanced over at Araceli, who had her eyes glued to her phone.
“No—wait. Victoria’s house is worth two pointninemillion. I had the wrong address.” When Rafael shook his head in disbelief, she quirked an eyebrow at him. “What? Her dad’s a millionaire.”
“I know, but still…”Two point nine million. He and his cousins had been thrilled when they found a three-bedroom apartment for less than two thousand a month. By contrast, Victoria lived in a mansion. The vast chasm between his life and hers couldn’t be more evident.
He exited the I-15 at Rancho California Road, following a route similar to the one he’d taken to reach the Blackwood Cellars Estate. Most of the high-end homes in the Temecula Valley were located around the major wineries. Huge, sprawling estates with pools, private stables, and acres of land. With the properties so spread out, the individual addresses were hard to discern in the dark. He turned on his high beams and slowed his car to a crawl.
“Did you know she was this rich when you hooked up with her?” Araceli asked.
“I knew she had money. She was staying in a luxury suite at the Villa del Sol. That doesn’t come cheap.” He’d assumed she was from a wealthy family, but not at this level.
Thinking about it brought back the insecurity he’d experienced in Baja after she left him. Like he wasn’t worthy. He was just some guy she’d slept with and abandoned once her trip ended.
But she hadn’t left him by choice. That much was clear from the story she’d shared with him. If her father hadn’t called her home, who was to say what would have happened?
Besides, being rich didn’t make anyone a better person. Case in point, her dad might be a millionaire, but he was also a major asshole. Rafael would take his own family over the Blackwoods any day.
“Do you think we can come back during the day and swim in her pool?” Araceli asked. “It comes with water features.”
“This is a job. Got it?”
She gave him a pouty face. “Don’t be such a grump. Aren’t you excited to see her again?”
Too excited. He needed to tone down his enthusiasm and behave like a professional.
But he couldn’t deny he’d been pleased when Victoria called him on Tuesday morning, less than twenty-four hours after their meeting. With a heavy dose of sarcasm, she updated him on Missy’s latest demands, including her request to build four custom-made gingerbread houses. After he agreed to help, he recruited Araceli, and they set up a meeting for Wednesday night.
He pulled up to the gated entry and gave their name at the intercom. Once the gate opened, he drove up the crest of a hill until he reached an enormous Spanish-style mansion. The kind that resembled an old-school, colonialist hacienda. Which seemed on brand for the Blackwoods.
“Holy shit,” Araceli said. “This place is huge. Like, reality-show huge.”
He parked in the circular driveway, near a garage built to accommodate five or six cars. All of which probably cost five times more than his beat-up Honda Civic. As they got out, Araceli led the way, practically skipping in her eagerness to reach the front door. Massive stone pillars framed the entrance to the mansion, leading to a tall, arched doorway. He suddenly felt underdressed in a gray Henley and jeans.
He pushed past his uncertainty. Victoria hadinvitedhim here. When she answered the door, clad in a UCLA Bruins sweatshirt and black yoga pants, his tension ebbed away. This was a Victoria he could relate to.
“Thanks so much for coming.” She smiled at Araceli. “Hi. I’m Victoria Blackwood.”
“Araceli Torres. This place is something else. Any chance we could have a tour?”
Rafael grabbed his cousin’s arm. “No tours.” He flashed Victoria an apologetic smile. “We don’t want to waste your time.”
“I set up everything in the great room so you can see what I’m dealing with,” she said. “Do you want anything to drink? Some wine?”
Araceli grinned. “I’ll bet you never run out of wine, right? Do you have your own wine cellar? All climate-controlled and stuff?”
Victoria led them down the hallway. “We do indeed. It holds two hundred and fifty bottles.”
